


Atom Bomb Baby

by SAValentine



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Lots of other stuff, M/M, Misogyny, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slavery, Smut, it's a big pile of fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 10:36:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAValentine/pseuds/SAValentine
Summary: A collection of shorts written within the Fallout Universe. Featuring the Sole Survivor, the Courier, the Lone Wanderer, their companions, and some Original Characters.These fics are non-canon or what-ifs to my 'Crawl Out Through the Fallout' series...Will include gore, fluff, smut, comedy, tragedy.





	1. I Wanna Be Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John muses on how the Sole Survivor touches him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Hanock/Sole Survivor Fluff

 

The first time they touch his skin, he'd just taken a pretty bad hit. One hand is on the shoulder of his coat, holding him up, while the other is touching the side of his face. Their touch is gentle, fingertips ghosting along his ruined skin as they check him for injuries. He was convinced they simply didn't want to really touch his skin, but after a moment, they cupped his cheek, drawing his attention to their face, seeing it scrunched up in concern for him. "Hey, you still with me, Hancock?" 

 

The second time they're in Goodneighbor and they're already a little drunk and a bit too excited to get to the Third Rail. They grab his hand without hesitation and pull him along. 

 

The third time they're tending to his wounds again. This time, however, it's his chest, and he had to take off his shirt and jacket. Their hands press into his skin as they wrap the bandages around his chest. There is no hesitation, no revulsion in their touch. It's firm, yet gentle as they focus on what they're doing. They keep one hand on the bandage as they fish for a makeshift bandage clip in their pocket. He expects them to pull away as soon as they have it secured, and they surprise him when they don't. Their hand rests just below the bandage, admiring it for a moment before looking up at him with a small smile. Their thumb runs affectionately across his skin for a moment before they pull away. That was when he first recognized what the tight, fluttering feeling in his chest was, and he stared at them for longer than necessary.

 

He kept counting for a while because each time was still a shock to him. A lot of the time it was when they tended to his wounds since his coat covered most of him. If he counted those times, he'd have lost count by now. They seem to prefer to get his attention with a hand on his shoulder or his elbow nearly daily, a hand on the small of his back when they have to move behind him, a small "'Scuse me." escaping their lips. Those touches are casual to them, but they still leave warmth wherever they'd touched him. They slowly started touching his hands more often, mostly using them to lead him somewhere instead of simply expecting him to follow. They'd also gently pat his face sometimes when he said something that they were trying not to laugh at. One time, while he was high, they took off his hat, putting it on their own head, the other hand touching his bald head as they squatted in front of him with a grin. "My dear stoner, I think you forgot we have things to do." He'd panicked a little because he definitely had forgotten.

 

Then they kissed his cheek and the ball in his chest wound impossibly tight and he forgot to breathe for a moment. They smirked playfully. He could barely remember why they had done it, something he had done that they had considered sweet. It was shortly after that when he told them how he felt. He wasn't the one to talk about the potential for more than friendship: They had. He'd joked about it, just in case they were going to turn him down, but instead, they smiled, stepping closer to him to lay another kiss on his cheek. But this time they only pulled away a little bit, their breath fanning across his face. 

 

He hesitated only a moment before he turned his head and captured their lips in his own, pulling them close. He moaned into their mouth as one of their hands pulled him closer with a hand to the back of his neck, their other hand splaying across his chest. When the two of them broke to catch their breath, he muttered almost reverently under his breath. "Now why on Earth would you even want to kiss this ugly mug?"

 

Their laugh was light and playful and they place another kiss on his face- this time just above where the ruin of his nose was. "Oh hush, it's because you're amazing."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting off short and sweet. It doesn't stay that way long.


	2. Make Me Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Hancock isn't used to the idea that someone as amazing as the Sole Survivor would be interested in him. And the first time they have sex, he worries that it's just a one time thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun with actual lubrication! Body Worship!  
> John Hancock/Sole Survivor  
> Rating: Mature/Explicit

 

He is positive that it's a fluke the first time they have sex. As their firefight with a horde of super mutants came towards an end, they heard the approaching 'beep-beep-beep' of a suicider and they ran, ducking through a doorway too small for the mutant. He'd exploded in the doorway and they'd barely made it out of that building and into the next one before the explosion. Silence stretched on and Sole stared at him, eyes wide, adrenaline still coursing through them. They closed the distance between them in two quick steps and grabbed the lapels of his coat roughly, pulling him towards them in a rough kiss. Their voice was a breathy moan against his lips.  
"Hancock. Fuck me. Right now."

He was taken aback by it, reeling back a little bit and staring at them. "Are you sure?" They nodded, a 'please' escaping their lips. He worried that it was just the adrenaline of the near-death encounter, but he couldn't resist their pleading tones. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. Even if this was going to be the only time, he was going to give them what they wanted. Anything. He guided them towards the only furniture in the building that looked like it would support them: the kitchen counter, and he bent them over it. Debris scattered off of the surface and onto the floor as he did so. They let out another small, whimpered 'please' as he slid their pants to their knees. He groaned at the sight, running his fingers along them. He took a glance around and stepped away from them with a grin. He needed... Ah. There it was.

"Hancock..." They whined, but he came back with a bottle of cooking oil that had been sitting on the far side of the counter. He shook it in front of their face before resuming his position behind them, still grinning. He opened the bottle with one hand, pouring some onto the other before teasing them, playing with them as he prepared them. Savoring the sound of their moans, pleading him with increasing urgency.

"Please. Please. Fuck me." They groaned out, pressing back against him. He swallowed hard and knew that he couldn't delay it much longer.

"That eager for me, Sunshine?" He asked, stroking them with one hand as he undid his belt, pushing his pants down. Their needy whimper was his only response. He chuckled at the noise and ran his hand over his length, making sure he was covered in the oil as well before moving forward, lining himself up behind them.

He paused there, a moment of doubt creeping into his mind. They had said that they had feelings for him, that they cared for him. But this... His heart lurched. It wouldn't be the first time being someone's 'experiment', a matter of curiosity before they decided that they didn't really want him. He needed confirmation. He needed reassurance. He tried to keep the doubt out of his voice. "What do you want?"

"You... I want you... Please." The breathy words caught his heart in his throat and a quiet growl escaped him as he pushed into them, gently, giving them time to accommodate him. But it didn't last long. They pushed back against him with a fervor, driving him to match their pace, becoming more desperate with each thrust, giving him no choice but the hold onto their hips as they slammed into each other.

He felt them cum first, crying out wordlessly. He desperately wanted to hold out and go longer, see if he could make them cum again, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. He'd been wanting them for long enough that it would have made it hard in the best of circumstances. Their desperate cries sent him over the edge and he cried out their name as he came into them, pulling their hips tight against him and leaning forward to rest his head against their back as he caught his breath.

There was no time to bask in the after-glow. No time to talk, kiss or cuddle. They heard noise only a moment later and had to pull apart, pulling up their pants, without even being able to stop to clean up before heading out of the building. They exchanged grins on their way back to Goodneighbor, but didn't say anything. They didn't even get time to speak afterward as Sole was dragged away for a mission for the Railroad. He was left behind for this one, and he couldn't help the stab of pain in his chest at it. He refused to regret it, even if it was the only time he got to have with them.

He was coming down from a high when he even saw them next. They had just gotten back from their mission and, from what Fahr had told him, had gone to the Third Rail for a drink. Again the stab of pain shot through him. Usually, when they came into Goodneighbor, they visited him first, if only to check on things and ask him to join them for a drink. Now, it seemed, they were avoiding him. Shame, probably. It wasn't the first time this had happened. It was just the first time he had actually cared about the person enough that it mattered.

He grabbed another canister of Jet when there was a knock on the door before it opened. He turned his head in a scowl to snap at the intruder. Why bother knocking if they were just going to walk in anyway?

It was Sole, looking sheepish as they stepped into his room at the State House, closing the door gently behind them. Hancock set the canister of Jet down and looked at them. His heart still skipped a beat at the sight of them. He kept his tone light. Though he knew what was going to happen. "Hey there Sunshine. What brings you to little ol' me?"

"Look, Hancock... I wanted to apologize for the other day..." They started. He was right, and he didn't need them to continue. He waved his hand absently, cutting them off.

"No need. I know fucking a ghoul ain't everyone's cup of tea--" He couldn't look at them directly, but he could see their face screw up, eyebrows knit together as they hesitated.

"I--" There was a long pause. His hands fingered the Jet as he waited. "We didn't get a chance to talk afterward and I--"

There was another long pause and finally they gave a sigh, walking over to sit next to him on the couch. They touched his hand and he looked at it before looking up at them.

"I didn't want you to feel like I'd just... Used you." He was slightly taken aback by their words: this was not how this conversation usually went. Sure, sometimes the 'let's just be friends' conversation, where they talked about it being a one-time thing had something similar, but they never apologized for 'using him'. It must have shown on his face, because they continued, looking away from him, this time their voice picking up the pace. "I mean... I've been wanting to do that for awhile, and don't get me wrong, it was amazing, but... I don't know, maybe it sounds stupid, but I like things to be special the first time with someone, not just fucking in the middle of some kitchen while coming down from an adrenaline high and I just... Maybe next time, we could--"

"Woah woah woah there sunshine, I'm not on enough Jet to understand what you're saying." It sounded like they were talking about a 'next time'. Couldn't be. That didn't jive. Someone as amazing and attractive as them wanting another round? Especially someone like them apologizing as if the first time wasn't "good enough". He must've misheard. "You saying you wanna fuck this ugly mug again or something, sunshine?"

They looked back up at them and their expression was almost indignant, searching his features as if trying to figure something out. He waited for them to speak, but after a moment, they leaned forward instead, pressing their lips against his ruined ones in earnest. He returned the kiss, desperately, trying to convey his feelings through it, one hand tangling in their hair. Their hands splay across his chest, leaning further into the kiss, pressing him into the couch. When they have to pull away for air, Sole chuckles quietly.

"Maybe we can move to the bed and I can show you what I mean?" They ask him, the words almost shy.

"So insistent!" He teased, reverting to the tone to hide his insecurity. "If you're ready for round two with this ghoul, who am I to say no?"

They chuckled, taking his hand and leading him over to the bed. They both took off their shoes and Hancock started to pull off his shirt when they stopped him, kissing him. They stepped forward, trailing their hands down his chest through the fabric of his shirt as they ran their tongue along his lips. It was strange, feeling someone with skin so soft and smooth touching the rough, scarred expanse of him. They nipped gently as they pulled his shirt out of his pants, hands splayed across his chest. He couldn't stop himself from moaning at the touch. Their smile was warm when they pulled away from the kiss, moving their gaze down to the buttons of his shirt, deftly undoing them one by one, planting a kiss on his lips each time. He let his coat and shirt fall off his shoulders and he hurried to remove their shirt, pulling it over their head, leaning forward to kiss their neck. They let out an appreciative sigh and pulled him with them unto the bed.

He moved to put himself on stop, but they stopped him with a hand to his chest. "No, please. Let me... I want to..." They trailed off and kissed him as they straddled him. Normally he was the aggressive one in bed, preferring to take control. But he desperately wanted to know what they were doing, so he didn't protest. Why they had been so insistent on 'showing him'. They moved from his mouth to just below where his ear had once been, pressing their lips against the skin, the kiss lingering before moving down along his jaw, planting a kiss everywhere they went. The sensation of their soft warmth against his ruined skin drove him mad. He couldn't stop the fluttering feeling that filled his chest, his breath catching with each kiss their hands exploring the skin along his neck and shoulders. He was already straining against his pants, his hips moving to press against them as warmth spread through his body.

"Sole..." He moaned. They smiled against him and continued to trail kisses, continuing across his jaw along the other side before sliding to his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest. He was writhing against them, one hand gripping their hair desperately, the other holding onto their shoulder as if to ground him. To remind him it was really happening. That the kisses and hands roaming his body wasn't some Jet-induced dream.

They came to the edge of his pants and trailed their kisses there, giving a quick lick here and there before kissing their way back up. "I want you John." They muttered against his skin, their mouth hovering over his heart. His heart was already beating hard against his ribs at the confession. It was also the first time they'd said his first name. "I don't want you to doubt that."

They quickly moved up to crash their lips against his, a passion he hadn't expected after all of their gentle touches. His tongue darted into their mouth, savoring the taste of them before they pulled away again with a wicked grin. He let out a groan, not wanting to end the kiss, but they placed a quick peck on his forehead before moving down again, now with more fervent kisses, licking and nipping him as they went. This time, when they reached the edge of his pants, they took a moment to run their hand along the length of him under the fabric. He twitched at the touch, his hips bucking to meet them. The chuckle they gave vibrating across his hips as they deftly undid his pants, sliding them down his hips. He kicked them off in a hurry, glad to have one less barrier between them. He tugged insistently on their own and they lifted themselves enough to let him, their eyes filled with lust.

He groaned loudly, he wanted to pull them down, to feel them tight around his cock. He wanted to feel them ride him until they both came. They didn't give him much chance to grab their hips though, ducking down to his own hips as they kicked off their pants. Their mouth worked across his skin, teasingly close to his cock, gently running their fingers across the length of him, both hands and mouth exploring his hips, his pelvis, his thighs. They didn't hesitate or waver at the feel of him. His hips bucked into them again as they finally, finally, moved their mouth to him. They licked him delicately, teasingly for a moment, swirling their tongue along the bottom edge of the head. He moaned, but it quickly turned into a strangled cry as they took him into their mouth.

"Fuck. Sole..." He could barely catch his breath, his words coming out in a breathy plea. They hummed an acknowledgment around him as they moved along him, one hand gripping the shaft, stroking, pumping in time with their mouth. He was so wound up at that point. They had driven him nearly crazy with all of their kissing and touching, and now... He groaned, hips bucking against them, driving his cock further into them, loving the feeling of the warmth of their mouth around him.

It didn't take long, and he felt himself approaching faster than he thought he would, and he barely had time to warn them. They didn't stop, tongue exploring, hand stroking, sucking and he couldn't hold on any longer. He called out their name as he came, feeling his cum hitting the back of their throat. He panted as they swallowed, licking him clean.

They kissed their way back up to him, their grin still wicked and pleased. They planted a kiss on his lips, pressing their forehead against his. "Why wouldn't I want you?" They muttered, and it was the only encouragement he needed. A growl came from deep in his chest and that was the only warning they got before he flipped them over, climbing on top. He was still hard, wanting.

"I won't pretend to understand it." Her said against their lips, keeping the kiss going as he stroked them. "But I'm not going to complain, love."

He'd kept the bottle of oil from before and grabbed it from off the bedside table, taking a moment to prepare them before he pushed inside of them. They let out a moan and the sound alone made something curl tight in his chest. This time, he had to draw it out. He had to return the favor. He needed to show them what they meant to him. He wasn't as romantic as they had been: too desperate to pay as close enough attention to do anything as neatly as they had. But he tried. His hands roamed their body, searching across their chest, their stomach, holding tightly onto their hips as he moved. He moved their legs onto his shoulders, planting kisses on their legs as he moved inside of them, thrusting. A hand kept drifting to their face, marveling at the sight of them, amazed that he was so lucky.

They slipped one of his fingers into their mouth, their tongue imitating how they had run it along his cock earlier, staring into his eyes. They moaned around his finger, their hands searching for a grip, holding onto them. They began to plead, trying to pull him closer, urging him to move faster, harder, more. More. More. He cursed under his breath as they came. He felt it, and crashed his lips against theirs as they muttered affections that were nearly incoherent. One word he heard repeated tho, desperate, pleading, whispered like a secret. "Love". He moaned at it, nipping at their lip, pulling back slightly. He couldn't hold back any longer. He leaned forward, pressing his head against their chest, their legs still draped over his shoulders. His thrusts became quick, sloppy, desperate as they urged him forward, gasping in time to each one.

They called out to him again, their voice pleading for him to cum again, his name coming out as a broken moan from their lips. That was all it took to take him over the edge. He thrust a couple more times as he came. Panting, he lowered their legs back to his bed, falling forward unto them, kissing them tenderly. He didn't understand it. He probably never would. But as he wrapped an arm around their waist, turning them both unto their side, his other hand on their face, legs tangled as they kept one hand on his chest, the other touching his cheek, staring at their face: he didn't care. He was somehow the luckiest man in the entire Wasteland and he did not understand how he could be so lucky. He knew that later the doubt would return. That he would wonder why someone so amazingly attractive as they would want his ruined, scarred body when they could have practically anyone else.

But in that moment, he didn't care. His arms wrapped around them and pulled them closer. They laid their head against his chest and his heart beat a staccato against their ear. They fell asleep like that.


	3. Throw her to the flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Courier doesn't have any scruples working with the Legion. But she knows she should. She knows it's dangerous, that they aren't good people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Courier is a former slave and a former raider.

“Hold. Still.” Mairwen scolded, suppressing her laughter. “I promise it will wash off later, okay?”

Her words were met with indignant **beeps** as she held the eyebot in her lap. ED-E could easily get out of her grip. She knew she wasn’t holding hard enough to stop that. So she knew from experience that the bot was only pretending to be upset. She smiled at that, dipping a finger into the dark liquid.

It was colder than she had expected, but she continued regardless. The designs were sloppy, jagged, rough. But they were familiar and she could still paint them by memory after all these years. ED-E obediently floated in front of her, letting her continue her design. She dipped her finger into another liquid and finished the markings with a few short strokes.

When she was finished, she grinned, patting the eyebot gently to indicate she was done. She stepped back and examined her work. The bot beeped at her questioningly and she nodded.

“Now you look like a Buzzcock!” She gestured towards the partially broken mirror to her side and ED-E floated over to it. Beeping in excited approval, the new “unofficial” member of the Buzzcock Raiders floating over to her.

Her smile was sad this time as she pat the bot, leaning forward to touch her forehead against the frame. ED-E wouldn’t know how much it meant to her. But that was okay.

 

* * *

~~**_RUN_ ** ~~

The thought flooded her mind the moment she stepped into the Cove. It beat a drum against her skull as she walked in time with each step she took. ED-E was the only one beside her. She should have brought someone else with her. She needed to be stronger than this.

She’d thought she could do this alone. The coin talisman got her across the river without incident and without trouble. But the Decanus’ words rankled at her. _Shock_ that she was a woman. She knew what they did to women.

The urge to push him off of the boat and escape came flaring up again, the taste of fear **burning** at the back of her throat.

< Reassuring Beep >

She turned her head towards the eyebot, placing a hand on the cool metal. The familiar markings on the metal calmed her. Reminded her.

They couldn’t keep her here. Even if they tried.

But when her feet set onto solid ground again, the harsh melody of the words returned to her mind. Lucky stayed tucked down the front of her pants, but she handed the others over as instructed.

She kept her eyes off of the women who carried heavy packs like brahmain, her head tall and her gaze trained to her goal. She could feel the eyes on her as she moved. She could hear the whispers. She ignored the woman who gaped at her in shock.

When she was informed that her eyebot could not come with her into the tent, she bit onto her bottom lip, and gave a nod in silent instruction.

< Protesting Beeps >

But when she stepped into the tent she was alone. She worried her lip with her teeth as she approached. Her first real sign of distress. But with each step she adopted her guise. 

The smirk tugged at her lips, her shoulders back, but her posture open. Relaxed. She stood before the man who called himself the son of a God, of Mars, and she grinned, eyes dancing with malice and mischief.

 _She_ wasn’t going to be the one to **run**.

* * *

 

She didn’t sit at the tables to eat with them. She _refused_ to. Instead she found herself leaning against a table on the far side. She kept her body trained to a careful balance of relaxed and confident. As if none of it bothered her. As if she were so **confident** in her abilities that she knew she wouldn’t be harmed.

But Caesar’s Mark was worn in plain sight, hanging from her neck. The talisman in itself it felt like a collar of it’s own and it **_weighed_** down on her. She never hid that she didn’t consider herself one of them, but she did hide how much she really hated them. How much she hated herself for this.

She ate in silence. Watching them with what she intended would look like casual interest. She avoided eating with them when she could. Avoided staying longer than needed in general. But she’d been forced to stay longer to discuss another thing they wanted from her. And she’d forgotten to eat that morning in her anxiety for the journey. So she’d ended up too starved to refuse.

Her paranoia made her half expect the food to be drugged of some sort. If she didn’t know that the women of the camp had made it, she may not have eaten it. That thought dropped a stone of **guilt** into her belly. She knew _exactly_ how the men looked at her. The whispers that followed her.

Despite what she’d done, in the Mojave and for Caesar, she was still a **woman** and that made her _weak_ in their eyes.

Part of her _wished_ that she was allowed in their arena so she could fight one of them. Maybe **kill** one of them. Her free hand flexed at the thought. Maybe she could find someone to fix her augmentations. She’d be able to go back to her old methods.

She finished her food, pulling out a Sarsaparilla from her pack. She cracked it open, pocketing the cap, and finally left her position on the far wall to deposit the plate she’d eaten off of, sipping slowly.

She didn’t bother to hide the sway of her hips as she walked. Graceful, feminine, and perhaps a bit _overplayed_. Her hair would sway with it, worn in a more flowing style half up braid instead of the usual tight braid. It was her stubborn rebellion when she came here, and perhaps a very dangerous one. She made it a point to remind them that it was a _**woman**_ who has been given Caesar’s Mark.

Who had **_earned_** respect enough for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I have thoughts about how messed up it is to work for any of the factions in New Vegas.


End file.
